The Life I Was Doomed To
by DaughterofApollo92
Summary: Commodore Norrington could not help but wonder how you became a pirate. So, one day, he finally asked.
1. The Life I Was Doomed To

_**Disclaimer: I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean at all. All I own is the OC idea.**_

 ** _This is written in first person, or, from the reader's perspective. I have left the name blank so that you, the reader, may insert your name or any name you want. This just sort of came to me at, like, three in the morning, so hopefully it's not completely horrible. I've never written this type of piece before, so here goes! Please leave reviews below! Reviews = Love._**

 ** _Backstory: You are the daughter of one Jack Sparrow's crew before he turned pirate. From what I understand, Sparrow once sailed for the East India Trading Company and got into trouble for not wanting to haul slaves. This is how he got branded a pirate, and you and your father went down with him._**

* * *

 **The Life I'm Doomed To**

"Tell me, Miss _ , why would one such as you choose to become a pirate?" Norrington asked.

"Choose?" you hissed. "Choose? You think I chose this?" you demanded, yanking off the cuff bracelet that hid your pirate brand and brandished your hand before his face. Against your will, you feel your throat tighten and your eyes sting. "They say you can't be punished for your father's crimes, but that's a lie." You quickly turn away from Norrington, trying to regain control of your emotions.

"I beg your pardon, Miss?" Norrington sounds highly offended. "The laws of Great Britain do not punish the children of an offender for the actions of their parent."

"Perhaps the Crown in Britain doesn't, but Cutler Beckett in the Carribean does," you answer as evenly as possible.

"And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?" he demands.

"Beckett was one to catch the _Wench_ , and he was the one to punish the crew," you say. "My mother died two years before, so I was at sea with Father. Beckett branded everyone on board pirates, including me."

Norrington nearly gasps at your accusation. "S-Surely you do not mean-"

You finally whirl back around to face him. "I do, Commodore! Ask me how old I was. Go on, ask me!"

Norrington takes a deep, fortifying breath. "How old were you, Miss _ ?"

"Eight!" you cry. The tears that had been threatening to fall spill down your cheeks.

Norrington feels like he just received a blow to the stomach. "Eight? But that would mean -"

"I was a child!" you sob. "Only a child! And already branded a pirate! Do you have any idea what that did to me?" you ask. "When Father died, no one would take me in, no one would help me, give me a job, or anything."

You turn your back to Norrington once more, looking out the window wistfully at the town below. "All I ever wanted was to be a lady like Miss Swann. Wearing lovely gowns, be liked and respected, courted by a good man..." A shaky sigh escapes your lips. "No, this is not the life I chose." You look over her shoulder at Norrington, the hopelessness in your eyes making his heart drop like a stone in his chest.

"This life is the one I was doomed to."


	2. And I Always Will

_**Okay, so I did not have any plans to continue this, but this scene came to me and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it out. Who knows, maybe this will turn into a series of one-shots. This is once again written from the reader's perspective (fit your name or any name you want into the little blanks).**_

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 **And I Always Will**

 **-0-**

Commodore Norrington found you in the library of his home, standing at the window, looking down toward the docks. Quietly, he crossed the room and joined you at the window. A black-sailed ship could just be made out on the horizon, the wind driving her closer to Port Royal.

He let out a small sigh. "You'll be joining up with them, won't you." It was not a question, but a melancholy statement.

"Being here, in this house, with you, has been the best days of my life since I was a child," you answered softly. "You have shown me nothing but respect and acceptance. But you know I don't have a choice, Norrie."

A tiny smirk momentarily flitted across his lips at the nickname you bestowed on him in the weeks you had been in Port Royal. However, it faded as he turned to face you. "You have a choice, _. You can stay. My home is always open to you." Gently, he grasped your elbows and turned you to face him. Then, he took your hands in his. "Please, stay _," he pleaded. "Don't entangle yourself with these pirates any longer."

Slowly, you raise sad, defeated eyes to meet his emploring ones. "Norrie, you know I'm already as entangled with them as I can get, in spite of the fact that all I've ever done was be on that ship."

His fingers shifted so that his thumb could brush the mark on your right wrist. "You don't have to be anymore. All we have to do is prove your innocence," he insisted.

"All it will ever be is my word against Beckett's, and I think we both know how much any judge or jury will value my word," you answered, eyes downcast, and pulled away, hugging yourself. "Besides, even if anyone believed me, there isn't exactly a way to get rid of this...mark. It will always be there, mocking my innocence."

Norrington took a step closer, taking your hands in his once more. "Yes, it marks a connection with pirates, but it does not mean you are one. Not to me," he said, gently squeezing your hands. "You have been among pirates, lived with them for years, yet you never became one. You never looted, pillaged, or killed. You never let yourself sink that low. Instead, you grew into a strong, intelligent, beautiful young woman of character."

He lifted your right hand, pressing a fleeting kiss to your brand. "A true lady among scoundrels," he murmured, a gleam of pride in his eyes. "That is what this mark means."

You tried to blink away the tears stinging your eyes, but rather than holding them in, you caused them to roll down your cheeks. Norrington immediately fished a handkerchief out of his inner coat pocket and wiped your tears away. He hesitated, then open his arms, allowing you the choice of closing the distance between the two of you or not. You paused only for a moment before taking the step forward. He gently enfolded you in his arms, letting you tightly grasp the back of his uniform coat as you tears dampened the front.

"I'm afraid you are the only one who sees me like that," you whispered shakily into his lapel.

His answer came with a quiet surety. "And I always will."

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 _ **So, this one had a bit of romantic slant. Hope you enjoyed. Please review below!**_


	3. You Have My Word

_**This scene takes place before the first one in this little series; it is how Norrington finds/meets the reader. Please, read and review! Enjoy!**_

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 **You Have My Word**

"Steady, men! We have them on the run!" Commodore Norrington called to his crew. The HMS Interceptor cut through the blue Caribbean waters, gaining on an older-looking ship that flew the skull-crossbones flag of piracy. "Get the grappling hooks! Prepare to board her!"

Minutes later, Mariners from the Interceptor swung over to the pirate ship, Norrington soon following. Fortunately, the pirates were outnumbered and soon surrendered.

"Search the holds, down the bilges!" Norrington ordered. He turned to the pirates being put in irons. "And just who is your captain?"

A man with a ragged tricorner came forward. "I reckon I'm closest to cap'n we've got; I be first mate."

"First mate? Where is your captain?" Norrington asked.

"Lost 'em barely a week ago; hurricane swept him overboard."

"Does not that make you captain?"

The pirate shrugged. "I s'pose."

"And yet you still refer to yourself as the first mate?"

"'Tis on account of the lass," he answered. "Wanted to give a bit of time to grieve."

"Lass?" Norrington demanded. "You have a child on board?"

A third pirate piped up. "The late cap'n's daughter and she ain't no child." He gave a sneer. "A right pretty lil' thing; I 'ad 'oped to have a bit of fun with that lil' jewel, but Cap'n wouldn't let a soul lay a finger on the wench."

"And rightly so," Norrington practically ground out. Whether or not she was a pirate, Norrington's sense of chivalry was pricked at the thought of one of these scoundrels touching a young woman against her will. "Where is this young lady?" he demanded.

The first mate jerked his head towards a door on deck. "Cap'n cabin."

Of course, the door was barred shut, but with a few good shoves from a couple of Navy men, it swung open.

Norrington proceded in with caution, his sword drawn, Groves and Gillette just behind him. At first, the cabin appeared empty, but the faint sounds of movement drew the commodore's attention to the desk. Slowly, he approached the furniture and peeked around its corner.

"Please don't hurt me!" The breathless plea came from a young woman huddled half under the desk. Her hair was loosely tied half-back, tendrils escaping to frame her face. She wore a simple, faded dress, tall lace-up boots, a few small rings, gold hoops, a white and red agate locket, and a wide cuff bracelet on her right wrist. In her hand, she tightly held what appeared to be a small dagger. Norrington met her wide, pleading eyes, and instantly knew this was no act. She was genuinely afraid of them.

"Groves, Gillette, stay where you are," he ordered. Carefully sheathing his blade so that she could see, he moved around the desk and crouched down in front of her, keeping his hands where she could see them. "It's all right, Miss. I am not here to hurt you."

"You-You'll not kill me?"

"Not I," he answered. "That's up to the courts to decide."

"The courts?"

Norrington nodded gravely. "I'm afraid you will be tried with the rest of your father's crew. Your father was captain, was he not?"

Slowly, she nodded. "He was."

"Then, I'm sorry, but I must bring you in, Miss." Norrington sighed.

She seemed to deflate, her eyes closing for a moment before fluttering open again to reveal hopeless resignation. She held out her knife to Norrington, handle first. He accepted the weapon and offered his hand to help her up from the floor. She slid her hand into his and rose from her huddled position with a lot more grace than he imagined most ladies he had met could muster in such a situation.

"Since you have been cooperative, I will let your hand be bound in front," Norrington said, motioning one of his men forward to put her hand in the irons they had brought with them. "Gently, Gillette, if you please."

Just then, one of junior officer poked his head in the door. "Are you all right in here, Commodore?"

"Everything is fine, Lieutenant," Norrington answered. "We're just coming out."

"Please, sir," the young woman spoke up. "My cape and hat." She pointed her shackled hands toward the articles which were hanging on a nail by of the cabin's berths.

Norrington knew that he was giving this young woman quite a bit of latitude here, but his sense of chivalry won out. "Of course, Miss. Groves, please bring the lady's hat and cape." Groves handed her the wide-brimmed, plumed hat, but held onto the cape for her.

It was a three-day voyage back to Port Royal, and a longer three days Norrington never knew. The prisoners below decks were constantly fighting amongst themselves, arguing with their guards, or trying to escape. Except for one.

The young lady, whom Norrington had learned was a Miss _ _, was probably the most compliant prisoner he had ever dealt with. She only spoke when spoken to, she never fought or argued with her guards, she silently ate whatever food she was given, even thanking her captors when her meals and water rations were brought. For her good behavior, Norrington had allowed her to be brought up on deck to walk around for a few minutes on the second day. She was closely followed by Groves the whole ten minutes, and he reported that she made no suspicious moves, had, in fact, done her best to stay out of the sailors' way, and kept her hands where they could be seen.

So, on the third day, Norrington allow her a longer time on deck (if convicted, this would probably be her last taste of "freedom"), and had her irons removed. He watched from the helm as she drifted along the port rail, keeping her hands clasped at her waist where Groves could see them.

Norrington made his rounds on deck, and it was several minutes until he looked around for their prisoner. He found her at the bow, Groves a couple of paces behind her. Silently, he relieved Groves of his guard duty in favor of watching _. She stood tall, one hand ensuring her hat stayed in place as the wind blew and the other resting on the rail. She nodded toward a pale smudge on the horizon.

"That's it, isn't it." It was not a question.

"Port Royal? Yes," Norrington answered quietly, stepping forward to join her at the rail.

"And there will be a fair trial there?" she asked, her eyes never leaving the horizon.

"Yes, of course.'

"What about before? I'll be put in prison, I suppose."

"I'm afraid so, Miss," he answered. "You will be given the chance to speak for yourself, to confess to you crimes, before the trial. I do recommend that you do; the sentencing might be easier, seeing as you are young."

"And who will I be talking to? You, Commodore?"

"As a matter of fact, yes."

Finally, she turned and looked up at him, her expression serious. "I swear to you now, I will say naught but the truth. "But will you listen, truly listen to what I have to say?"

Norrington met her firm gaze unflinchingly. "You have my word."


	4. What a Match

_**Another little scene that just came to me. Takes place between the first and the second one.**_

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 **What a Match**

Wearily, Commodore James Norrington entered the front door of his home. His maid met him at the door, taking his hat and gloves and welcoming him back after his long day at the fort.

"Commodore Norrington?" a soft, feminine voice called, followed by quiet footsteps in the hall. The commodore's frowning, tired features softened upon hearing the voice. Moments later, Miss _ swept into the foyer, wearing her new cream and pale blue dress. Two weeks ago, she had told him her story, and he believed her, convincing Governor Swann to release her into his custody. Officially, she was still a prisoner of Port Royal, but to him, she was his guest.

As soon as she laid eyes on him, she gasped. "What happened to you, Commodore?"

"It's just a few scratches," he answered, trying to smile but it came across more like a grimace. Her fingers lightly brushed over the cut on his bruised cheek. A sad look blossomed on her face.

"They tried to escape again, didn't they?"

He knew whom she spoke of without her having to clarify. "Yes," he answered simply, gently taking her hand in his. "Your father's crew has been most persistent in their efforts."

"I'm sorry," she sighed, bowing her head.

"None of that, now," he answered, "You are not responsible for what they do."

"But they're my father's crew..."

"Which does not make them your responsibility," he replied, squeezing her hand. "You're not one of them, remember?"

She nodded slowly, giving a thin smile. She raised her eyes and took in his battered face and hands. "Come with me," she murmured.  
She led him to the sitting room and had him sit in a chair near the fireplace. She left but returned minutes later with a bowl of water, a rag, and bandaging cloth. Kneeling in front of him, she carefully cleaned the cuts on his face and hands. Then, she pointed to his arm. "Take it off."

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, surprise.

She motioned to his uniform. "The coat. Take it off."

"Bu-"

"I know you have an injury on your arm, Commodore," she sighed in exasperation. "Your maids might have missed it, but I did not."

"Very well," he acquiesced and removed his uniform coat. While the gash and bloodstain hid well in the dark blue of the coat, it could not be missed on the snowy white of his shirt. There was a six-inches long cut down the length of his forearm. At the sight of it, she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before beginning to clean it gingerly.

"Thankfully, it does not look deep enough to need stitches, sir," she murmured.

"Well, that is a blessing," he answered softly with a small smile.

She was so focused on her task, that she did not see the faint color rising in his face at her touch. However, Groves did see it.

Lt. Groves knew that his commanding officer had been injured in the altercation that afternoon in the prisoner's attempted escape and knew that Norrington had not received any medical treatment at the fort. Having been friends with the commodore for years, Groves wanted to be sure Norrington was alright, so he had come to check on him.

He had been surprised when he found Norrington and his "guest" together in the sitting room, but his lips turned upward in a smirk as he watched Miss _ gently tending Norrington's wounds, and the commodore blushing faintly at her attentions.

 _A British Navy commodore and a pirate's daughter,_ Groves thought with a chuckle as he slipped away and returned to the fort. _What a match_ that _would be._


	5. Right Here With You: Part I

**Right Here With You**

Commodore Norrington paced nervously in the hall of his home. Every minute or so, he would glance up at the staircase, to see if she was coming down.

"My word, Commodore, I have seen you this tense in ages," Lieutenant Groves commented, doing his very best to hide the smirk threatening to show itself on his face. "You have nothing to worry about. Not on Miss _'s account, anyway. She's a perfect lady."

"I know," Norrington answered shortly. "I know that." He paused in his pacing to face Groves. "It's just...This is her first real event here in Port Royal, and I'm not sure how everyone else will react to her."

"Well, the promotion ceremony for the new lieutenants went off just fine," Groves noted.

"Yes, but that was mostly military personnel, who don't always pay that close attention to the guests," Norrington argued, resuming his pacing. "and those civilians who were in attendance at the promotion have now had time to look her over, inquire about her, discuss and gossip about her..." Here he stopped again with a heavy sigh. "I just want her to be happy here."

Groves' smirk finally won out. "Here in Port Royal...or here with you?"

Norrington froze, then whirled around to face his friend. "I beg your pardon?" It came out indigent, but Groves could see a blush beginning to color Norrington's face.

"Just curious," Groves answered innocently.

Norrington opened his mouth to respond, but Groves stopped him with a loud "eh-hm!" and a pointed look at the stairs. Norrington quickly turned and found himself stunned into silence.

The creature before him had to be an angel. She wore a simple gown of silver damask silk, with white lacy ruffles on the elbow-length sleeves and cuffs, and matching shoes. Her hair was pinned up an elegant updo, ornamented by a single white rose. Silver earrings shone from her ears, and a thin pale pink ribbon graced her throat in the place of a necklace.

She glided down the stair to shy stand before him, clutching a small white lace fan. Before Norrington could pull himself out of his daze, Groves stepped forward.

"You are looking quite lovely tonight, Miss _," Groves complimented, grinning at his friend's reaction to the beauty before them.

"Thank you, Lieutenant Groves," she answered with a little curtsy and a faint blush.

Norrington finally pulled himself together enough to think somewhat straight and offered her his hand. Gently, she placed her hand in his. He smiled proudly when he noticed that she was not wearing her cuff bracelet, her brand visible to all. Gallantly, he bowed slightly, brushing a kiss to the mark on her wrist, causing her blush to deepen.

Groves' grin widened as he watched the pair. This was going to be an interesting night.

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 _ **Her Outfit: On Polyvore,**_ ** _Untitled #712 by Daughter of Apollo_**


	6. Right Here With You: Part II

**Right Here With You: Part II**

As the carriage entered the grounds of the Governor's mansion, you looked out the window to catch a glimpse of the stately manor.

"Wow," you breathe, taking the perfectly manicured lawn and the white-stone house which practically glowing the light of innumerable torches.

"It is rather grand, isn't it," Commodore Norrington commented from the seat beside you, smiling softly at your awe.

You sat back in your seat, taking a deep breath.

"Nervous, Miss _?" asked Lieutenant Groves.

"A bit," you nodded. "Now I know how Cinderella felt going to the ball."

"Cinderella?" Groves asked.

"French fairytale, Groves," Norrington answered. "Daughter of a widowed Merchant. Her father remarries a horrible woman with two daughters, and the all three torment the girl, treating her as a servant, while her father is away."

"I see."

"After her father dies, it gets much worse for the girl," you continued. "Then, the prince of the land host a ball, invite every eligible maiden to attend. Cinderella's step-mother and sisters don't let her go, but her fairy god-mother comes, turns her ragged clothes into a beautiful gown with glass slippers, a pumpkin into a carriage, mice into horses, and lizards into footmen and driver."

"So, she does get to go to the ball after all?" Groves asked.

"Yes," you nodded. "but the magic will only last until midnight."

"I assumed she gets the Prince," Groves said.

"Yes, but she nearly stay too long at the ball, so she had to go suddenly, leaving one of her glass slippers behind in her haste, which the Prince uses to find her again."

"To find her?"

Norrington chuckled. "Yes. You see, He falls in love with her over the course of one evening and never thinks to ask for her name."

"What does the slipper have to do with it?"

"He has every maiden who attend the ball try on the slipper," you explained.

"That sounds tedious."

"and the shoe was so small, it only fit the feet of one girl in the entire kingdom: Cinderella," you finished.

"And she and her prince lived happily ever after," Norrington added.

"So, you identify with this Cinderella, Miss _?" Lieutenant Groves asked.

"Yes," you nodded again. "A girl with no parents, no name, no fortune, nor status to recommend her to society, going to a ball given by the ruler of land wearing a gown given to her by a benefactor. Sound familiar?" You smiled at them, trying not to show your nerves.

Norrington, however, saw rather through it. "There is one difference between you and Cinderella," he said.

"No glass slippers?" you joked, which won a chuckle from him.

"No, not that. Although, I imagine your feet will be glad of that difference soon enough," he said, gently taking your hand in his as the carriage stopped at the front door. "The difference is that, no matter what happens tonight, I will always be right here with you."

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 _ **If you guys have any suggestions or request for this, please free to leave them in the comment box or PM me. Remember: reviews = love and inspiration!**_


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